


Innocence and Arrogance Entwined

by chillontheside



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillontheside/pseuds/chillontheside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian always gets what he wants. At least until he meets Kurt Hummel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence and Arrogance Entwined

Sebastian always gets what he wants.

He is a persistent and he's proud of it. He _always_ gets what he wants.

His childhood was toys whined out of his parents, frequent trips to Disneyland and ice cream before dinner. At school it was getting better grades than everyone else, having the hottest girlfriend and, after he figured some stuff out, the hottest boyfriend. Then it was having his dick sucked at the particular tilt of his head, then the title of the captain of Warblers and whatever vintage cars he wanted.

That was until he met Kurt Hummel.

*

He hears a squeal "tall non-fat mocha please" and grimaces. His eyes are drawn to a slim figure at the front of the line. _If he agrees to do it with a gag, I'm in_ , thinks Sebastian and watches the hips as the guy collects his coffee and struts out of the shop. _Definitely in._

*

A few days later with a splitting headache from spending nine unbearable hours in the archives with dusty books Sebastian heads for Starbucks. His ear-drums have been shattered the moment he stepped out onto the sidewalk, and now that he sees two blissfully empty plush chairs in the farthest corner, he already imagines himself in one of them, coffee warming his throat that’s become scratchy from the dust.

But he doesn't see a loud gaggle students who cut him off when he's a foot away from the door. He ends up holding the door, letting them pass and when he finally enters the shop, all he can hear is their incessant yapping and cackling and his two chairs in the corner are moved to the nearby table where the group flops their asses down.

He grabs his cup with a gloomy grimace - the only emotion he can muster up enough energy to express. He sits in the middle of the shop, constantly being bumped and shoved and apologized to. He snarks under his breath and when he can't take it anymore he stands up, abandoning his half full cup on the table, and runs straight into the gag-guy.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” is squealed into his ear and a pair of blue eyes look at Sebastian guiltily. “I didn’t expect you to – you know, stand up,” the boy says with a faint blush on his cheeks.

If he wasn’t so tired, he would make a crude comment but he still has to get home.“Yeah, whatever,” mutters Sebastian and sidestepping the boy, heads out.

*

College has turned out to be much harder than he expected. Professors are not as easily charmed and all they do right away is demand papers on topics no one but them has any idea about. For the first month he doesn’t sleep for more than three hours a day and none of his daylight (or nightlight for that matter) hours are spent in the company of handsome gay men.

Instead he spends it with _books._

When by early October the situation doesn’t improve, he resorts to drastic measures. Sebastian fucks his eager closeted upper-floor neighbor while his wife is out walking the dog. It’s a one-time-thing, thankfully, and when a week later he bumps into him on the stairs, the man doesn't acknowledge him.

And in this miserable nearly sexless state Sebastian spends the week before the midterms, stumbling into a painfully familiar Starbucks and catching an amused look of the gag-guy whose coffee runs seem to frightfully coincide with Sebastian's.

It’s been weeks – _months_ – since he sauntered into the shop with an aplomb of a freshmeat high school graduate in a big city and saw that delicious ass. 

He’s getting a hang of his classes but he still feels like the biggest loser.

*

He learns that the gag-guy’s name is Kurt when he accidentally grabs his cup from the counter.

"Um – excuse me,” he hears a muttering close to his ear and a manicured hand stretches out, wiggling fingers impatiently. “I believe it’s mine.”

Sebastian glances at the scribbled _Kurt_ and thrusts it into the stretched out hand. “Like I would know what to do with a _mocha_ ,” he says distastefully and thankfully at that moment a barista calls out his name. Sebastian snatches his own coffee and with a single pointed glance at the boy, returns to his table.  
 _I liked “gag-guy” better_ , thinks Sebastian and with a sigh resumes conjugating Provencal verbs.

*

A few days before Thanksgiving he walks into the shop and while he waits for his coffee he notices carefully laid out colorful flyers on the counter top. "Broadway Night" it screams in big Arial italic letters.

"What's that?" he asks Ann. She looks over from pouring cream in his drink and says, "These are Kurt's - you know, brown hair, blue eyes, high voice?" Sebastian nods and she continues, "He’s one of the performers.”

"Figures," mutters Sebastian and smiles thankfully at her when she hands him his cup. He readjusts the strap of his bag and his eyes once again fall on the pile of flyers. Making sure that Ann is busy with another customer, he grabs the top one quickly and stuffs it in the outer pocket of his bag. 

*

Sebastian is bored. They sing and sing... and Kurt The Gag-Guy Hummel sings and he’s not that bad. Passable. Sebastian’s just never been into musical theatre.

Kurt is surrounded by the same gaggle of obnoxious people - and anyways, Sebastian wouldn't know what to say if he did manage to catch Kurt alone. He's not even sure why that thought crossed his mind - why would he need to talk to the guy at all.

He's here for some low-quality entertainment, not to _talk._

His gaze must linger on the group for too long because Kurt's eyes land on him and he sees recognition in them. Sebastian quickly downs the rest of his beer and leaves, forcing himself to think of the paper he still needs to write for Monday.

*

A cup of coffee is slid across the table, nudging his open French history book.

"I wanted to say thank you for coming to the Broadway night last week," a high but surprisingly soft voice says.

Sebastian lifts his eyes curiously. "What's this?" he asks, gesturing at the cup.

"Coffee. I asked for the same thing you ordered," Kurt says with a shrug.

"A little presumptuous, don't you think?"

"Don't you want free coffee?" he retorts with a raised eyebrow.

"What's in it for you?"

"Your delightfully polite company, obviously."

Sebastian chuckles. "Well, ain’t you lucky today.” He smirks at Kurt and wraps his fingers around the cup, "I'm also pretty faithful to my coffee," he says and takes a sip, looking into   
Kurt's eyes.

*

Sebastian steals Kurt's phone number one rainy-snowy-mushy Thursday when the shop is full and they sit at one table, books mixed with sketches. He names himself "Hot Stuff" and Kurt gets "Gag-Guy" even though Sebastian doesn't call him that anymore.

Kurt, being a generally nice person, brings him coffee whenever there is a late night emergency plea from Sebastian. Sebastian, being generally a bitch, comes to the diner where Kurt works and mocks _everything_ , secretly enjoying the way Kurt's hips move to the rhythm of the song.

Sebastian confesses to calling Kurt the Gag-Guy when they are walking through the Central Park. They huddle into their coats, Sebastian very loudly pitying Kurt whose outfit for that day didn't include a hat. Kurt hits Sebastian on the shoulder and with a squeak throws some snow on his boots.

*

Kurt’s eyes sparkle and beckon at him over a glass of wine. Instead of losing himself in their marine depth, Sebastian shifts his focus onto the glittering Christmas lights, reflected in the crystal.

Kurt really has fancy glasses. 

"To you being done with your first semester,” says Kurt with a grin.

Sebastian’s eyes flick back to Kurt’s face, “To us being done with the finals.” He ignores the feeling that sweeps over him at the sight of Kurt’s pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.

They clink glasses, and the room is so quiet they can hear snow falling on windowsills.

He’s almost got the school figured out. But Kurt remains... Kurt. 

Sebastian still hasn’t figured out what it is he wants and whenever he thinks about it, the jumbled mess of feelings he stumbles upon sends him fleeing. It’s too complicated. And Sebastian doesn’t do complicated.

The weight shifts and Sebastian watches as Kurt kicks his slippers away and curls on the couch, looking curiously at Sebastian. “So what are gonna do in France?”

"Sleep for days at first. Meet up with old friends. Drink mulled wine," he shrugs, "whatcha gonna do in Ohio?”

Kurt’s smile melts away. “I don't know. Try to be cheerful. Pretend that nothing’s wrong and the elves will be there shortly,” he says lightly, jocular, but his long fingers squeeze around the glass.

His lips still slide into a semblance of a smile when Sebastian rubs his shoulder gently.

 

"You’re drunk,” Sebastian rises from the couch to put away another empty bottle and staggers, falling back on the couch with a thud.

Kurt giggles. His teeth peek from under his lips that have been turned burgundy by the wine. “It’s your French alcohol,” they say. Sebastian can’t control his wandering eyes anymore.

He stares and sees Kurt swallow heavily. His body moves at its own accord: an inch, then more and then... his lips are on Kurt’s, and his eyes shut. Kurt tastes like wine and cheese, and Sebastian can’t breath, he can only press forwa –

The lips are gone. Sebastian can’t feel the warmth of Kurt’s body anywhere near and he’s scared, scared of opening his eyes and seeing Kurt’s horrified expression and the distance he’s put between them.

But Sebastian is no coward. He opens his eyes.

Kurt is perched on the edge of the couch. “I – I don’t want to be another _conquest_ ,” the last word falls from Kurt’s lips disdainfully, a deadshot at Sebastian’s heart and _where’s that feeling come from?_ “I’m not one of your – whatever it is you call your achievements. I’m not some kind of a _prize_ ,” he says firmly with hands clutching his thighs, eyes darting around the room, eluding.

Sebastian doesn’t want the night to end, not yet. “Okay,” he says unwavering. “Won’t happen again.”

*

"How are things in Ohio?" texts Sebastian.

"Better than I expected," the reply comes within minutes. "How's Paris?"

"Not as fun as I've hoped."

*  
With rapt attention Sebastian watches Kurt sing about losses and fights. Sebastian forcibly gulps down the need to comfort and ease and stretches his legs, sprawling against the counter.

Kurt finishes with a graceful bow, brushing away a loose tear. He gets caught up in the crowd, in the compliments and by the time he reaches the bar the next performer is almost done.

Sebastian looks him over and with a mischievous glint in his eyes comments, "Not bad, Hummel, not bad. I believe even I cried a little."

Kurt nudges Sebastian's legs and with a small secret smile, avoiding Sebastian's eyes, cocks his hip against the counter. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Oh, you won't be seeing it honey."

*

Kurt drinks almost hungrily that night. Sebastian holds his hand through a whispered admission of how hard it actually was and this is the first _incomplete_ Christmas of many. His real tears aren't pretty and they don't glimmer in the stage lights. They are dull little drops that collect on his jaw and fall on Sebastian's shirt.

"You're the only one who came," says Kurt in his ear, with Sebastian's hand around his waist. "They don't care about these nights anymore. They've got everything figured out. And I'm stuck in the past - in past dreams, in past -" sob “lives.”

Sebastian lacks compassion necessary for encouraging speeches; the only thing he knows how to do is touch. So he touches. He squeezes Kurt's waist, fingers splaying and warming. He bumps their shoulders together and holds on.

*

Kurt kisses him on the first day of February.

It’s freezing, the wind lifts the flaps of his coat but the warmth of Kurt’s lips slowly seeps into him.

Kurt’s lips are probably the softest he’s ever kissed.

*

If Sebastian _had_ had a plan, if it _had_ been a conquest of sorts, it would have shuttered into million tiny slivers. Kurt’s mouth is hot on his, and he’s kissing back, fervorously, furiously. The bed is close, too close, Sebastian would have _really_ liked a warning, but his knees hit it and next he feels Kurt’s body on his.

They stop. Their eyes meet.

“What are we doing?” says Kurt softly.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” replies Sebastian, trying to decipher the expression in Kurt’s eyes.

“But you wouldn’t. Wouldn’t have asked.”

Barely a whisper, “No.”

Kurt’s lips close over his.

*

Kurt’s life picks up. He gets a callback. He starts rehearsals, he meets new people, new guys.

Sebastian doesn’t feel used, he doesn’t think he’s capable of that, but it stings.

He constantly replays the words Kurt said to him that night in December. _I don’t want to be another conquest._ But he’s not a conquest. He’s a conqueror.

*

Sebastian hasn’t felt a surge of pride at being the best for quite some time. So when he is the one Kurt lets into his dressing room before the premiere (and not a cast member who’s been doting on Kurt, or a flowered admirer who shifts from one foot to another outside, glaring at Sebastian), he feels like Sebastian of the past, like Sebastian who hasn’t yet stepped a foot in New York.

“Stop freaking out,” he tells Kurt even before the door closes.

“Easy for you to say, you aren’t the one who will be performing in front of more than a hundred people tonight!” squeaks Kurt.

“And thank you, all-mighty powers above, for that,” Sebastian pretends to bow.

Kurt flops on the chair and glances at his reflection in the mirror. “Is my hair alright?”

Sebastian pretends to carefully examine it. “Hmm... I would say yeah... I guess,” he tilts his head and gazes critically.

“Oh shut up!” Kurt shoves him away and grabs a hair spray.

“It’s gonna be a bitch to wash out,” comments Sebastian, settling down in the chair behind Kurt.

“I know,” Kurt bites back. But catching Sebastian's eyes in the mirror, he grins, “but it’s worth it.”

*

Kurt is beautiful on stage. Stunning, exceptionally talented. Sebastian doesn’t care about silly plot or silly songs. All he sees is Kurt.

But he’s not the only one.

*

Kurt tells Sebastian about him in a club. He yells over the music, “I’m seeing someone,” and waits.

Sebastian’s brain freezes while his body continues to move. Kurt’s eyes are invisible in the darkness and whatever glimpses of his face Sebastian sees tells him nothing.

He continues dancing.

*

He meets _Dan_ next week. Sebastian can’t take his eyes off Kurt and Kurt’s plastered against the boy, silly drunk smile and earnest eyes – everything Kurt directed at Sebastian in the winter.

Sebastian still has the shirt Kurt wore when he stayed over.

But then he sees Dan in a club, grinding against other men, without care or without looking twice. And Sebastian’s furious but then there’s Kurt: dancing with another man too, hand lying loosely on his shoulder, a drink in another hand and hips, oh shit, those hips.

Sebastian drinks a shot of vodka and masochistically keeps his eyes trained on the dancefloor.

Kurt stumbles up to him, leaning into him, smelling like alcohol and other men. His usual scent is masked with sweat and booze, and the blue of his eyes is hidden behind dilated pupils. “So who’s gonna be your victim tonight?” he whispers and presses against Sebastian’s side.

Sebastian glances at him but all he sees on Kurt’s face is genuine curiosity. He catches Kurt’s gaze and waves his hand vaguely at the dancing crowd, shrugging.

Kurt's expression momentarily changes and when a barman brings another shot for Sebastian, he quickly downs it down and with a fleeting touch on Sebastian’s shoulder, rushes back to Dan.

*

“I don’t get why _you_ are angry!” Kurt’s foot taps impatiently as Sebastian fumbles with his keys.

He shoulders the door open, “Because I think you are fucking crazy! You can’t date that guy!”

“You sound like Rachel,” Kurt angrily stomps into the kitchen with Sebastian on his heels.

“I will sound however I wanna sound. This is not you, Kurt, what the hell are you thinking? Are you actually considering having _open relationship_?” mocks Sebastian with air quotes.

Kurt glances at him over the shoulder.

“You still sound like Rachel,” he comments with pursued lips and carries a tray with a small kettle and two cups into the living room.

“I doubt she’s gonna use these words,” Sebastian follows Kurt with determined steps. “And don’t try changing the topic.”

“I’m not!” exclaims Kurt and after putting the tray on the table, he turns at Sebastian with hands on his hips. “What you don’t realize, Sebastian, is that people change. They don’t always want the same things. Sometimes, they start to want something else, and you know what? It’s perfectly normal!” Kurt’s voice rises into a high pitch.

“I know that it’s _perfectly normal_ ,” Sebastian mocks, sneering, “but I find it hard to believe that _overnight_ you let go of your silly soulmate ideas and decide to date a guy who wants not only you but half of the gay population of New York at the same fucking time?”

“What, you jealous?” Kurt stabs him in the chest with a finger. Sebastian’s face goes white but Kurt doesn’t notice, continuing, “No one’s stopping you! Go fuck the other half of the gay population, see if I care, and I’m pretty sure they’ll be thrilled!”

“God, Kurt, would you just stop assuming? You always make me out to be such a horrible slut,” He pauses, staring into Kurt’s squinting fierce eyes. “But I’m fucking _not_ ,” he makes a step forward Kurt. “Do you know how many times I had sex since September? Two! So don’t you even compare me to your asshat boyfriend who, I bet, sleeps with different guy every night!”

“Don’t _fucking_ blame me, Sebastian! You keep strutting around with your head high, judging _my_ silly soulmate ideas and complaining whenever we watch anything romantic! So excuse me,” Kurt’s voice drips with sarcasm as he stares intently at Sebastian, “for assuming that you don’t do relationships –“

“You could have asked me, you know,” interrupts him Sebastian with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah, and have you act like an entitled bitch?”

“Fuck, Kurt,” Sebastian starts pacing again, running a hand through his hair, “stop making up shit in your head!”

Kurt blinks up at him and snarls. “So what, if I asked you, you’d tell me that you’d actually _love_ to have a boyfriend? You’d love to hold hands in Central Park, cuddle on a cold afternoon and meet the family?”

Sebastian folds his arms on his chest and looks squarely at Kurt. “And what if I say that I would?”

Kurt freezes.

“I _would_ hold hands," continues Sebastian, "cuddle and meet the family, I’d even be nice at dinner and wouldn’t make inappropriate jokes.”

“And does the guy you’d do all this for even exist?” snarks Kurt, his jaw tight.

"Funny you should ask that," he says, "he does exist. One morning when he stayed over, he forgot that he wasn’t at home and started jerking off right there, with me in bed just a few _inches_ away, and I wake up from a load moan and see the guy -“

Kurt’s lips are as soft as Sebastian remembers. Sebastian opens his mouth and it feels different now, promising – heady, dangerous and so, so good.

He pulls away but stays close, fingers brushing through the hair at the back of Kurt’s head.

“You promised you would never mention that,” whispers Kurt, his eyes flicking over Sebastian’s face, “Idiot.”

“That was for getting my point across.”

“You did. Still, next time choose something less embarrassing.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

Kurt’s fingers squeeze around his waist and smiling softly, he connects their lips again.

*

Sebastian has always viewed meeting Kurt as a turning point of his life. He doesn’t stop being obnoxiously persistent but he no longer thinks that it’s the only way of getting things. He finally learns the meaning of compromise when Kurt wants to watch Moulin Rouge and Sebastian doesn’t but he still curls up with Kurt in front of the TV (and there’s even no sex involved). He does think that Kurt is his greatest achievement though and when Sebastian tells him that, Kurt smacks him and says, wiping tears, “You’ve just got a PhD, you idiot!”

“I can’t be an idiot if I’ve just became a doctor.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and when they get home, uses chocolate whipped cream to paint PhD all over Sebastian’s chest and then licks it off before sealing his mouth over his boyfriend’s dick.

Sebastian might not always get what he wants but he finds he doesn’t really care.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from The Last Shadow Puppet's song - My Mistakes Were Made For You  
> you can listen to it here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVFNFascIak


End file.
